Jean's P.O.V
Silence.
Nothing can be heard as I enter the cell. The patient in front of me stares at the wall. A smile plastered across his face, however I could see it was a mask. Unlike the other patients this one is different, there is a spark of emotion inside that's like an ember about to die, small ,weak, fragile...
Fragile.
That's the only way to describe this patient.
Quickly I look down at his file in my hands.
Marco Bott
Patient number: 178
Age: 16
Hair: brown/black
Eyes: brown
Diagnosis: Marco Bott (patient 178) appears to suffer from severe depression. Most likely caused by his whole family dying in a car accident.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Kirchitien and I will help you in your recovery for the next four months," I say breaking the silence.
My words echo off the walls of his empty cell.
He tries to hide it but I see his eyes flick up for a second. Maybe I just imagined it...
I'm surprised when he opens his mouth slightly and let's out a few almost inaudible words ,"You can't help me."
He said all that with a cold hard smile.
The way he said it sent shivers down my spine. I knew right then there was no stopping me. Challenge accepted...
"I'll help you, no matter what. Even if it takes me five years! Hell even twenty years!",I let all the emotions out.
For a second his smile grew warmer and I thought the ember grew a little bit brighter...
Marco's POV
"Hello Marco, how are you today," asked Dr.Kirchstien. I didn't speak. I didn't flinch. I didn't blink. I did nothing to acknowledge his existence.
He had be visiting me for six days now. Each time he tries to start a conversation, and each time I stare at the wall. I haven't said a thing since, "You can't help me."
"So Marco, how old are you," Dr. Kirchitien asks.
Of course I know he already knows my age. What an idiot.
"I want to know why you are so secluded", he questions.
He moves to much more private topic. That I don't want to enter
"Marco, I'd like for you to tell me about your family", he says.
I study his face intensely trying to figure out his intentions. Dirty blonde hair frames his face.
I can tell he is nervous because he is sweating and shaking slightly. Regardless of his nervousness his gaze stays confident. Those brown eyes specked with gold stare at me as if I were an exotic animal and his brows stay furrowed.
Suddenly something in me snaps. Why would he care what happened to my family.
"Get out! Get out!", I scream
"Marco, I ..." He tries to defend himself.
"I said get out! Now!"
"Please."
"No!"
Finally he lowers his head in defeat and leaves my cell...
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A/N: wow what a short chappy.
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